


I’m kind of maxed out on bad news. Can it wait?

by MissAtomicBomb77



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtomicBomb77/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the quote line from “The Greater Fool”:<br/>I’m kind of maxed out on bad news. Can it wait?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m kind of maxed out on bad news. Can it wait?

The first time it happened, it caught her off guard. It was a surprise to her because he had never been much for events where, well frankly, social skills were required. She hosted things all the time at the building, often late into the evening, even more in the winter months. He wasn’t really being social at all, but he was there, leaning against the window, half looking out, holding a glass of bourbon. Well, the bourbon was an assumption, but there weren’t many more drinks he favored anymore. He happened to glance back. Their eyes locked, he tilted his glass in recognition and went back to looking out the window. It happened so quickly, she didn’t even have time to formulate a response. She supposed she had a dumb look on her face for that moment.

The second time was a Thursday. Leona couldn’t even tell you why she remembered it was a Thursday when she thinks about it. Maybe it was a holdover from the conversation she just finished. She didn’t really know. It was a Thursday and she was wearing a black pencil skirt, a little long for her, but cut high in the back, well, because she could. She wasn’t naive about her body, because frankly, fuck age, she took care of herself and knew she looked good. She had a tailored jacket, left behind in her office, unlike the skirt, conservative. Just a simple ivory blouse, billowy sleeves and perhaps one button open, it was after all, eleven o’clock in the evening at this point. It was a tray of martinis that floated by that tempted her and as she acquired one for herself, she noticed him. Black slacks, a rich sand colored suit jacket, dark bow tie, perhaps a rich purple. Again he’s alone, standing near the wall and this time, a slight thin smile, he raises his glass. She’s able to return the gesture before someone comes to talk to her.

The third time was a more formal event. This time it was purposeful of him to come, he’s dressed for the occasion, Armand Fellini. He’s always been invited to all the functions. He’s the President of Atlantis Cable News, for Christ’s sake, he’s on the guest list for all her parties. Him showing up, that’s a whole other matter. She’s in a shoulder-less black ball gown with a red trim accent from the center of her chest to the ground that she was sewn into. Literally, the zipper broke at the last moment and God bless her assistant Jaime for salvaging the evening. He’s still at the fringe of the party and she notices that his glass is empty. They see each other and this time, she grabs fists full of dress to get to him, but she gets lost in the crowd and by the time she arrives to his spot on the wall, he’s gone.

~~~

It’s no secret Leona Lansing likes to dance. When there’s dancing, she’s not sitting. Leona will dance all night long if given the opportunity, damn the pain. She’s also open for candid conversation when she’s dancing. She’s open to discuss business as well, just don’t miss a step and don’t lose the beat. Do either one of those things and you lose her ear.

So when he slips in for a dance, she’s more distracted by where he came from. She hadn’t seen him all night and suddenly his arm is wrapped around her pulling her close, his other hand in hers and they’re moving. She’s the one having trouble keeping up, unusual for her. She’s distracted by the fact it’s him and she doesn’t know this song, her brain is taking a minute to find the beat and thankfully her feet haven’t failed her. Leona hasn’t had a chance to look at him until a moment in. He’s not really looking at her yet, and when she finally looks up at him, he matches her glance. A small smile and he lets her go. A twirl and while her body performs the maneuver perfectly, her brain is still in front of him. It was almost as if he was doing it on purpose, not giving her a chance to talk. It’s over in a matter of minutes and suddenly, it’s the Vice President of Marketing, holding her at a respectful distance.

~~~

She’s at a disadvantage. There is nowhere in the building she can go unobserved. There is no party she can hold that she’s not the center of attention. There is no party she can attend that she is not attended to. There are no moments alone because there is a cavalcade of employees, shareholders, politicians, assistants, drivers, security personnel. She’s never alone. Not here, she’s not and for some reason, she has the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, he’s trying to tell her something. She wants to ask him, corner him and ask him what is going on, because it must be something. Leona has seen him more in the last few months than she has in years. In fact, she’s come to look for him now and it puts her at ease to see him lurking, like a shadow. She now can’t name an event she’s hosted that he’s missed yet.

Leona’s in the bathroom, rummaging in her clutch for some pain medication, she thought for sure her pill box was in here. Something inside her grimaces, pillbox makes her feel old, if only for a moment. She hears a few women come in, softly talking. She’s not really listening when she finally gives up and decides to retreat to her desk and as the bathroom door swishes behind her, a piece of their conversation catches her ear. “So sad about his wife.” Her breath catches in her throat and she finds herself standing in the hall, mouth open stupidly. It sadly, suddenly and devastatingly makes sense.

She’s forgotten about the pain now as she works her phone and it was work. She kept people at bay with the wave of her hand. What she was looking for, it turned out not to be obvious at all and it took all of her intimate knowledge about him to confirm what it is that she thought she heard. Her eyes watered at the truth on the screen in front of her.

She finds herself back at the party in the Executive Dining Room now and she wants to find him and verbally take him out to the woodshed, for it was over eighteen months ago. She wants to shake him by the shoulders and ask him why he didn’t tell her what was happening. She thought they were good friends and she would have done anything to help him, thrown money at the hospital, at research, at experimental drugs, given him a leave of absence, anything, anything, anything. He didn’t have to suffer in silence, even if that was his default mode. They were too old to be proud and to be alone; he knew so many people that would do anything to have helped him, anything.

Leona’s accosted at the door and she’s distracted as she scans the room. She finds him, not unlike all those months ago, leaning against the window, half looking out, holding a glass of bourbon. Despite her feelings, her need to accost him now, her feet are planted to the ground across the room. When he sees her and the look on her face, the devastation is so apparent. Leona locks eyes with him. He stands now, upright and he knows that she knows.

Her hands cover her heart. He nods, leaves his unfinished drink on the windowsill and makes his exit and all she can manage to do is watch.

He stops going to the parties for he managed to tell her what he wanted to tell her for months without having to say a word.


End file.
